Blood Traitor
by TwistedHarryTales
Summary: Taking place after the last chapter of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, except Harry actually died in the forest. A school-age (no longer pregnant) Tonks quickly finds herself on the run with Ron and Dean, hiding from the dark lord as they desperately try to cling onto hope that he can be defeated.
1. Chapter 1

"Harry Potter is dead!" Deafening silence.

"Harry Potter is dead!" the cold voice repeated. In the courtyard below us, there was a thin peal of laughter.

Across from me, the man I'd been fighting grinned. "Dead." He chewed the word slowly, like it was a particularly juicy spell he was trying to memorize. "And all the blood traitors next." He kept his wand at the ready, but he didn't make a move at me.

And I didn't make a move toward him. In my head, a million emotions raged. Sadness, first and foremost. It seemed like only yesterday that I'd met Harry. The cursed boy with a scar and a strange habit of finding trouble. I remembered him and his friends vividly; how they'd laughed at my stupid jokes, the questions they'd asked as I'd morphed my nose at their request.

And then old Mad-Eye had made me stop. Merlin, he was gone too. It was hard to believe. Hard to…

Down in the courtyard, someone screamed. I could barely see out of a cracked window, but I caught a flash of steel.

"Avada kedavra!" Voldemort's voice. A green flash. There were more screams; the sounds of the fighting resuming.

A moment later, my reflexes made me duck back. A flash of green light—the same shade as in the courtyard—passed inches in front of my nose. I spun, raising my wand to deflect the next curse from the death eater. He snarled, directing his wand at the arched ceiling above us.

_Protego! _The stones bounced away like raindrops against an umbrella. I pointed at one, casting a spell to turn it into a ball of flame. It shot at the death eater's stupid face, but he stopped it. It came back at me as a hissing snake. A scream escaped me as I tried to take a step back, stumbling on my own foot.

I went down quickly. A hard stair tore into my back as I rolled head over heels. I wasn't aware of what was happening until my head smacked against the stone floor. Twenty feet above me, the death eater came into view. I barely managed to roll out of the way of another green curse, rushing to get back on my feet.

In front of me, the scene looked like something from a storybook. As if in slow motion, I saw Voldemort and his followers taking on what was left of the Order. It wasn't much. And only a few of the DA members were still standing, doing their hardest to keep the death eaters fighting them busy.

Professor McGonagall circled Voldemort slowly, trading spells with him. They were simple spells, as if each one was testing the waters. He sent red sparks her way, and she morphed them into drops of rain. She sent the rain his way, forming a torrent that passed right through his body as if he wasn't there.

The sound of footsteps on the stairway reminded me that I had to move. I ducked down, narrowly avoiding another green spell. Whatever his talents were, the death eater chasing me wasn't very inventive.

Most of the death eaters were on my side of the fight, between me and the only possible hope at rejoining my friends or—a girl could hope—escape. But I didn't have another choice; I ran forward, my feet and fists pumping fast.

The sound of my steps echoed through the corridor. A pale woman turned to face me. Her expression immediately shifted into a mix of disgust and excitement.

"She's mine!" she shouted. Her shriek pierced my ears. Bellatrix. Bane of my existence. "Niece dearest! Haven't you heard? Harry Potter is dead!" She stumbled forward like a drunken warlock. "Your ickle, bitty savior. Dead as a doornail. How does that make you feel, hmm? Sad?" She pasted on a fake pout.

_Don't respond, _I told myself. _Don't feed into this. She'll just make you emotional again. _Strong emotions were the last thing I needed if I was going to have to face her.

She took a step toward me, spinning her wand around a thin finger. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"What do I have to say for myself?" My arms shook with pure hatred. "You're horrible." I wanted to say something more biting—something that would hurt her the way she was so easily hurting me—but my mind came up empty. I'd never practiced trying to wound someone with words, but Bellatrix… well, words were one of her sharpest weapons.

"How many?"

"How many what?" I asked, taking a step back. She was getting too close—ten feet away or so—but still far too close for my liking.

"How many of your friends are dead, do you think? Sirius? The Potter boy? Longbottom?"

Not Neville. My blood ran cold. I flicked my wand thoughtlessly, summoning the first spell I could think of.

She whipped it away with a laugh. "Is that all you've got?" A moment later she'd closed the distance between us; her cold hand grasped my throat. "The dark lord killed Longbottom. I didn't get the set. Do you know how much that pains me, niece dearest? It's like an itch that I'll just… never be able to scratch." Her hand tightened with each syllable, until I was fighting for each breath.

I tried lifting my wand again, but she was too fast for me. It went skittering across the floor, coming to a stop at the edge of the hallway.

"Not that I'm complaining," she said. "It was his right to kill that snivelling blood traitor. But you… you're _my _right, dearest. You and my sister and her mudblood husband. They won't last the night." She breathed in deeply, a blissful look crossing her face. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this."

A loud crack sounded from over her shoulder. I couldn't see what it was, but I heard the sound of someone coming toward us. Two someones, specifically.

"Avada kedavra!" The all-too-familiar curse came our way, but it looked like it was aimed for Bellatrix instead of me. She let me go, jerking backward to avoid it.

Red hair—the Weasley shade—greeted me. It only took me a moment to recognize Ron, flanked by Dean Thomas. Dean pointed his wand at mine and it shot into my hand.

My first thought was that they didn't know about the death eater who'd been behind me. I spun to face him, only to get hit full in the chest with an invisible force. It sent me flying back several feet; I crashed against the wall, a wave of pain immediately shooting up from my wand elbow.

"… kill you," I heard Ron say. "Avada kedavra!"

Bellatrix rolled out of the way, cackling the whole time. "Ooh, that one had a punch! I take it one of the Weasley den is dead, then? Who was it? Your fat mother? Or your mudblood-loving father?"

The death eater I'd been fighting sent a spell at Dean. He brought up a shield to protect against it, replying with a spell that made the air ripple with bubbles.

There was a moment of quiet before it hit, in which we heard a girl whoop loudly. "We can disapparate!"

Dean's spell hit the death eater; it sent him into the air, floating like a light balloon. Dean and I looked at each other, both realizing the implications of what the whooping girl had said.

"Well? Disapparate, you idiots!" The voice was unmistakably McGonagall; when I turned to spot her I noticed she was at the entrance to the great hall, a considerable distance away from Voldemort. He looked at her and started forward, but she disappeared a moment later.

Ron was still sending killing curses at Bellatrix, who seemed to be getting bored of the game. Her expression was falling into one I knew too well; I'd seen it directed at me just a few seconds ago.

_Stupefy! _I thought, side-stepping to get the spell around Ron's body. The spell missed, but I wasn't prepared for what happened next. My spell hit the wall, but one from Dean hit her square on the chin.

Before she could recover, one of Ron's green curses found its way underneath her rib cage. Her body went limp like a master-less marionette as she slumped to the ground.

A hand grabbed me, forcing me to take a step forward. The world slipped away as my body shrank to the size of a pebble hurtling through space.

The next thing I felt was hard stone against my scraped knees as a new world appeared around me.


	2. Chapter 2

FYI - Changing the rating for this story to M just in case it goes to a darker place (feels like it's walking the line right now).

Reviews appreciated (negative or positive)!

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I was the first one to break the silence. "I thought we couldn't disapparate in Hogwarts." I looked at Ron, but he didn't stir.

"Me either," Dean said.

The silence between us was deafening. Every time I tried to come up with something to say it got lost, drowned by the implications of what had just happened. Harry was dead. Neville too. We'd all gathered for a final fight, and it had cost us everything.

"Where are we?" I finally asked.

Dean shrugged. "Northumberland. It was the first street to pop into my head. I was just trying to get us out of there."

"I have to go to my parents'. I have to make sure they're okay."

"You can't do that." Ron's voice was quiet, cold.

"Why not?"

"They just defeated all the witches and wizards with any will to fight them. Where do you think they'll go next? To the ones who wanted to fight them but were too cowardly."

"Are you calling my parents cowards?" I clutched my wand tightly, trying—and failing—to school my rising voice.

Ron looked at me, a horrible dead look on his face. "Well, you bloody well didn't see them at the castle, did you?"

"No. I… I mean, they didn't know. If they had—"

"If they had they still would've stayed home. The Order were the only ones who were really up for the fight. And look at where they are now. Look at what happened to your godfather."

Mad-Eye. I shook my head. "It doesn't matter. If the death eaters are coming for them, I need to be there. They're my parents, for Merlin's sake."

"Come on, mate," Dean said. "We can't give up just because they won one fight."

Ron didn't answer. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head slowly. After a moment, he turned on a heel and started walking away from us.

"Ron! Hey, Ron!" Dean turned to me. "Wait here, okay? I'll stop him."

"Sure." I bounced on my heels. In my head, I was already thinking through a plan to save my parents. It was a simple plan; disapparate to my home and fight any death eaters who were there.

Over my shoulder, I heard scuffling as Dean tried to physically stop Ron. He got in front of Ron's face, yelling at him about how we still had to fight. Ron said something too quiet for me to catch and kept on walking.

It was clear that he wasn't about to help. I felt like every second was tearing into my very soul. I was consumed by one thought: that my parents might die any second, and my hesitation might be what caused it.

I concentrated on the appearance of my late aunt. My face felt like flowing water as I took on Bellatrix's crooked nose, her one-sided smirk. I brought up my wand, concentrating on home.

The familiar green fields rose up before me, rolling hills leading up to our block. My mouth turned to ash at the sight of a dark mark in the sky. I told myself that it was for someone else—some other family that lived on the block—as I rushed forward.

The sound of my boots scraping against the street filled my ears. Everything was so quiet. The first house was untouched. The second had been scorched by fire, but at least it was still standing. The third house—our house—was burning. The top had been blown off and several chunks of the wall were missing, too.

It took everything that I had in me not to rush inside. _Homenum revelio. _I felt one presence. Not two. There should have been two. I adopted a shuffling, stumbling walk and made my way inside.

"Sissy?" I said, mimicking Bellatrix's piercing voice. "Oh, sissy? Where are you?"

"Who's that?" The gruff voice that answered me didn't belong to my father, and it _definitely_ wasn't my mother's.

"Who do you think it is?" I was thankful for the years of pranks that had given me practice using my abilities to pretend that I was someone else. It made it that much more believable when I said, "You'd better hope that you didn't kill my sissy, whoever you are. She's mine. The dark lord said so."

"Bellatrix?" A man with a ragged hairline and wild beard came into view at the top of the stairs.

"Obviously. And you are?" Mentally, I crossed my fingers that the man wasn't someone high in the death eater ranks.

"Name's Ridley. We've met before." His scowl made it clear that he suspected something was up.

I decided to blow past his suspicion. "Well, where is she? Where's my sister?"

"Gone. She and her husband, both. We got the daughter, though."

"Oh? Really?" That was certainly news to me. Last I'd heard I was still alive.

"Yeah. She's up here." He gestured for me to come up. After a moment, I obliged.

At the top of the stairs, Ridley pointed me toward the room that had been my parents'. That was the one with the roof blown off it. I walked slowly, letting my Bellatrix stride drop as I shuffled past him and into the room.

Their bed had been completely upended. Stuffing from the mattress—some of it charred and black—littered the room. The wardrobe in the corner had been blasted apart, remnants of it clinging to each other by the thinnest splinters.

Inside the wardrobe—in front of drawers that had been crushed like thin paper—I saw my body. Or rather, a body that looked like mine. It was sitting motionless, its eyes completely glazed over.

"Seems strange, doesn't it?" Ridley asked from over my shoulder. "I've dealt with parents before. Most of them would rather die than let us get their kid. Even after the kid dies. But these ones, they just let us have her."

My mind struggled to come up with something appropriately Bellatrix-y to say. "Do you think she might still be alive? It would be nice if I could get the full set."

"I'm not sure. Possibly. But there's nothing for us here. That's for certain." He stepped out of the way to allow me to leave the room.

As I stepped past him, my foot caught on something. At first I thought it was my usual clumsiness, but then I heard his voice. "Don't move. I've got my wand on you."

_What would Bellatrix do? What would Bellatrix do? _I interrogated myself, bullying my mind to think of something to say. I cackled. "Oh, Ridley. Itty, bitty Ridley. Blood traitor bitty Ridley." I cast a quick charm to help me get back to my feet, fighting the fear that he would curse me the second I tried.

Every moment seemed to last an eternity, as I turned to face him with a fake grin. "I'm going to enjoy torturing you for this." My wand shot out of my hand.

"Shut it." He ground his teeth against each other. "How do I know you're not the daughter? They warned me she would come. They warned me about what she is."

"Oh, yes. The nose thing." I hoped that playing it down would put some doubt in his mind about the extent of what I could do. "Do I look like a child to you? Perhaps a couple cruciatus curses will convince you that I'm who I say I am."

Based on his tense expression, he still wasn't convinced. But he also wasn't completely sure that I wasn't her. I could see him thinking, wondering how much he'd just screwed up if I was really Bellatrix.

"Give me my wand back," I ordered. "Now."

He jerked in the direction of my wand lying on the floor, only to stop himself. He dropped to his stomach as a flash of red light passed by.

Turning left, I saw Dean and Ron. They were both hurling spells toward Ridley, who was alternately dodging and bringing up shielding charms.

"My wand!" I shouted, commanding him with all of the edge of the real Bellatrix.

Almost without thinking, he picked it up and tossed it out to me. I reached up to catch it and missed. For an awkward moment, I watched it fall to the ground. It was a lot easier to grab from there; I picked it up and pointed it at Ridley from the side.

_Stupefy! _The spell caught him on the side, knocking him over. _Petrificus totalus! _My second spell got him as he was trying to climb to his feet. His limp body—locked in a half-crouch—slowly fell back to the wood floor.

"Did you get him?" I heard Dean ask.

I let my appearance return to normal and stood up so I could see down past the balcony. "Yeah. I think he's the only one who was here."

"Okay. Good. Come on, Ron." Dean rushed up the steps, taking them two at a time. He only paused when he'd reached Ridley's limp body. "What do we do with him?" he asked, although I wasn't sure who he was directing the question at.

"Kill him."

We both turned, incredulous, to look at Ron.

"What?" Dean asked.

"He'd do us if he got the chance, wouldn't he? You can leave it to me if you don't have the guts for it."

"But…" Dean trailed off, apparently at a loss for words. "There's Azkaban."

Ron looked at him with an expression of complete disgust. "How many death eaters escaped from Azkaban last time? If we don't kill any of them who'd kill us, we're only making them stronger. That's why they won the battle at Hogwarts. Bellatrix. Travers. Dolohov." He counted out the most famous names from the escape. "If they hadn't been there…"

He didn't finish the sentence, but we knew where he was going. Ten less death eaters—especially ten of the fiercest death eaters—could have been the difference between victory and defeat. "There has to be another option," I said.

"You two go outside." Ron jerked his head toward the front door.

Dean held out a hand toward me as if he actually intended to comply with the order. "No!" I shouted. "We can't do this!"

"_We _aren't doing this." Ron fixed me with a withering scowl. "Go. Out. Side." He stressed each syllable in a way that made me feel like he'd curse me if I refused.

With wooden legs, I let Dean take my hand and lead me out of the house. He squeezed tightly, providing me with a lifeline I could hold onto. Our contact was the only thing that kept me moving, preventing me from curling up into a ball and denying what was about to happen.

I stepped out into the cold dawn. Dean closed the door behind us.

"He lost darn near everyone," he said. "The whole Weasley family was there."

"What about Ginny?" I asked.

"I saw her fighting Bellatrix, but after that I don't know where she went. Next time we saw Bellatrix she was fighting you. I think that's why Ron rushed over."

"Oh." I hugged myself tightly. "What happened, Dean? How did Harry die?"

He shook his head slowly. "I don't know. Guess he went to the forest after all."

"But why, though? I would have died for him."

"We all would've. I think maybe that's why he went."

Through the window—over Dean's shoulder—I saw a flash of green light.


	3. Chapter 3

Flashback to Nymphadora and Dean's first interaction. As before, please leave a review if you have a moment; any kind of feedback is helpful.

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_Mom squeezed my shoulders, taking me in with a heavy-lidded expression. "You're going to do great, Nymphadora."_

"_Why are you sad, Mom? I'm going to Hogwarts! This is going to be so much fun!"_

_She shook her head. "I know. Don't mind me. It's just… I'm being selfish. I want to share all the fun with you. But I know I can't."_

_I looked down at my hands, trying to come up with a solution. "I'll write you letters!" I said, with all of the excitement of a typical eleven year-old._

_Both of my parents chuckled. "You'd better," Mom said. "Once a week, at least."_

"_I'll write you one a day! Then it'll be just like having you with me!" I bounced up and down on the balls of my feet, my shiny new sneakers squeaking with each motion._

"_Yes, exactly. I'll be right there. Always." She pulled me into a hug—which was no small feat, given how much I was bouncing around—and squeezed me tightly. After a moment, I squeezed her back._

"_Don't let any of the Slytherins give you a hard time," Dad said. "They like to say nasty things, but you can't let any of it get to you." To his left—my right—a horn blew, making all of us jump. "Well, there it is. Time to go."_

"_Don't worry, Dad. I'll be fine." Normally he was a lot more talkative. I couldn't help thinking about how weird my parents were both being. It wasn't like I was dying. Just going away for a while. I'd be back in a few months._

_Adults were strange. They cried at things they didn't need to and then when important things happened half the time they didn't remember. I held up my hand toward my dad, waggling my fingers. "Abra cadabra."_

_He smiled, but didn't laugh. "Abra cadabra, kiddo."_

"_First spell I ever learned."_

"_And the only one you'll ever need." He swept me up in a hug of his own, lifting me off the ground as he carried me toward the train. I giggled, kicking against the air beneath me._

_He set me down on the bottom step. "We both love you so much. I hope you never forget that."_

"_I won't, Dad. See you in a few months." I looked past him to wave goodbye to Mom. She waved back, tears glistening in her eyes. Like I said, she was weird._

"_See you soon. Love you, kiddo." Dad stepped away, bowing his head as I swept into the cabin._

_The air held a bit of mystery as I worked my way along doors, some open and some closed. I felt like my entire future was unfolding on the train, as if it would be determined by which one I chose. I ducked into the first open one, where a boy who looked to be my age was fiddling with his wand._

_He looked up when he saw me. He frowned, angling his head ever-so-slightly._

"_Hi!" I said, breaking the silence. "My name's Nymphadora."_

_His eyebrows lifted with amusement. "Nymphadora? Did your parents hate you or something?"_

"_No. They love me. Why would you say that?"_

"_Because. Nymphadora…" he grimaced, looked out the window. "Never mind. Are you new here too?"_

"_Yup! It's my first year. I got my wand and everything." I set my bag down, rifling through it to try and find the short, supple yew wand. "Hmm, I swear it was in here." I took a seat, continuing to search for it._

"_How did your parents react when you got the letter?" The boy asked, his voice low like he was sharing a secret._

"_Uhm… they were happy. I mean, Mom sort of wanted me to go to Beauxbatons—get away from all the elitists, you know?—but they couldn't justify moving to a whole new country for it. Hogwarts is still a really good school, though. Only a few deaths in the last century."_

"_Beauxbatons?" the boy asked._

"_Yeah. It's the French school. You-Know-Who didn't have a lot of followers in France, so it's less… I don't know, less caught up in that whole blood purity world I guess."_

_His eyebrows wrinkled like he didn't have any idea what I was saying. "Sorry, I don't know who you're talking about. And what's the blood purity world?"_

"_Oh." It finally dawned on me that he must be muggleborn. About the same time, my fingers clasped around my wand. "Aha! I found it! Here." I pulled it out of my bag. "Isn't it gorgeous? Ollivander said it was the most ornate wand he'd ever seen."_

_He didn't say anything, so I put it down next to me. "So anyway, blood purity. It's this really stupid idea that—well, that having parents who were magical makes you better than not having parents who were magical. There was a whole war about it, but things are better now."_

_From outside our compartment, I heard a girl say, "Who said that blood purity was stupid?" A girl with a face like a toad stuck her head inside. "Well, who was it?"_

_I raised my hand slowly, flicking my wrist as my arm reached its apex. "Hi, there! Who are you?"_

_She drew herself up to her full height, which wasn't much taller than us. We were all around the same age, after all. "Pansy Parkinson. And you are?"_

_I got my knees under me and imitated the sort of wiggle she'd given when straightening herself. "Nymphadora Tonks. Pleasure to meet you. Do you want to sit with us?"_

"_Tonks? That explains it." She pursed her lips. "And what about you?" Toward the boy in the corner._

"_Dean Thomas." He crossed his arms, fixing her with a cold stare._

"_From the Ashby Thomases?"_

_He frowned, shook his head. "I grew up in London."_

"_Right, but were your parents muggles?"_

"_Yeah."_

_She snorted. "Guess like stays with like. Doesn't it Tonks?"_

"_I guess it does. Since you won't sit with us, do you mind finding a different compartment?" I kept up a smile even though she wasn't my favorite person._

_She rolled her eyes, but moved out of the doorway. I moved to a seat closer to the window, directly across from the boy._

"_So, Dean Thomas from London, do you know any fun spells?"_

"_Nope. I only got my books a few days ago. Do you know any?"_

"_Oh, yeah. Loads." I cleared my throat, raising my wand like I was about to do some complicated magic. "You ready? This is the most basic spell in the book." I flicked my wand down. "Abra cadabra." At the same time, I made my nose grow as long as it could go._

_He jumped back, shouting loudly. "That's freaky! How did you do that?"_

"_Like I said, very simple magic. Don't worry. It. Goes. Back. After a second or two." I shrank my nose after each sentence, until it was back to its normal size. "Do you want to learn?"_

"_Sure!" He bounced against the seat cushion, holding up his own wand._

"_Okay, so you flick your wand like so." I demonstrated the motion I'd done before. "And then you say 'abra cadabra.' The pronunciation is very important. Ab-ra cadabra. Okay? Do you want to try?"_

_He nodded enthusiastically. With a wild swish of his wand he shouted, "Abra cadabra!"_

_Nothing happened. Not that I'd expected it to. I faked a concerned expression. "Oh no. That's not good. It really is a very simple spell. Most of us don't even need a wand to do it. See?"_

_I set my wand down. "Abra cadabra." My nose grew, and I made it shrink back a moment later._

_His brow drew down in concentration. "Abra cadabra!" Nothing. "Abra cadabra! Abra cadabra!" Still nothing. I could tell he was starting to get worried._

_I held out a hand to stop his flailing wand. "Calm down. I think I have some bad news for you, Dean. Turns out you're not magical after all. I think there's been a terrible mistake."_

"_What?" he asked, his eyes bugging out. "But I got the letter."_

"_Yes, well, sometimes they make mistakes. I'm sorry. It's the most simple charm. If you can't even master abra cadabra, how could you possibly do any other spells?" My lip twitched, although I tried to keep it under control._

"_Are you messing with me? Am I really not magical?"_

_I sighed loudly, deliberately drawing it out. "Okay, try one more time."_

_He took a deep breath. "Abra cadabra."_

_I made my nose grow out as long as before, but much wider too. "What did you do?" I said. "Oh Merlin, it's not going back! What did you do?"_

"_I did the spell! Why isn't it going back? You said it would return to normal after a couple seconds!"_

"_It's supposed to!" I hopped to my feet, faking hysterics. "Oh, Merlin! I'm going to have to go to St. Mungo's! They won't let me into Hogwarts now. How could you?"_

"_I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry! I didn't realize…" He hopped to his feet, using his fingers to push at my nose like that would fix it._

_A laugh escaped me as he tried to physically push my obscenely large nose back into my head. That seemed to do the trick; he stepped back, a suspicious expression crossing his features. "You're messing with me, aren't you?"_

"_No. Well, okay. Yeah. Maybe a little." I made my nose go back to normal. "There's no abra cadabra spell."_

"_But your nose grew."_

"_Yeah. That's just something I can do. I'm not casting a spell. See?" I made my nose grow and shrink a couple times in the span of a second. "Please don't be mad. I was only kidding."_

"_It wasn't funny." He started picking up his things._

"_Wait! Don't go! I'm sorry." I reached out to grab his hand. "I haven't met a lot of other kids my age before. I thought it would be funny."_

"_Well, it wasn't."_

"_Okay, noted. I won't do that again. Sorry." There was an awkward air in the cabin as we both sat down where we'd been before. I tried to start up a conversation, but Dean barely responded. A few minutes later we were joined by other students that I could talk to. When we did happen to glance at each other, he glared and I did my best to look apologetic._

_Not long after, he was sorted into Gryffindor and I became a Hufflepuff. Several months passed before I saw—or thought about—Dean Thomas again. _


End file.
